The Stranger in the Mirror
by THGwoopwoop
Summary: Effie experiences the effects the Games have had on her and can't stop thinking about Haymitch. Is Haymitch doing the same? Will they ever come together to fix their pain? My first ever fic so PLEASE review to help me out ;) First chapter Effie, the next will be Haymitch and the third... well wait and see ;) *mentions s/h could be triggering to some*
1. Chapter 1 - Effie Trinket

The Stranger in the Mirror

Effie Trinket

Effie Trinket arrived back at her apartment, which looked out over the capitol square, just one of the many perks afforded to her with her prestigious title of escort. Even if it was just to District Twelve. The door closed behind her and Effie could finally relax her face. It was late and she had had a long day escorting her newest tributes. They were on their own now, nothing more she could do. As such she had moved back into her apartment from the Training Centre tower. This was her first night back in quite some time, but it was all exactly the same as every year. She was emotionally drained and she could still hear the celebrations out in the streets below her, or in the surrounding apartments maybe. She had stayed as long as she could, it might have been a little less time this year. Something was making everything hit a little harder this year. Whatever it was she couldn't face the party a moment longer and had arrived back home.

'Maybe it's the kids.' She thought to herself as she massaged her face out of the Capitol smile she had had plastered on her face for countless hours. 'Maybe... I don't know. Maybe because they have more fight than usual and yet I still know it's useless.' She silently questioned as she stepped out of her seven inch heels.

Tied at her slim ankle with a big satin bow, lilac, just like the diamonds which covered the patent leather and with an impressive platform soles as well as the long heels. They hurt her feet like hell. But it was only now that she noticed the pain, as she began to remove the Capitol shine from herself. As she padded across the thick, white, fluffy carpet she also noticed the trail of deep red blood she was leaving from her tortured feet. The drops of blood sitting rounded and shiny on top of the carpet looked like jewels in the snow, but they soon lost their lustre as they soaked into the fibres. 'Better sort out my feet.' She thought. 'Can't have anyone seeing the price we pay for all this the next time I wear open toes.'

Then, out of paranoid habit, she forced a laugh which rang out in the empty, sterile environment she was in. She had made a joke out of her minor criticism. Even though she was alone. Even though she had said it in her head. That's how far the fear had sank in her. She sighed at herself and continued in. not caring about the trail of blood she was leaving behind her, someone would clean that up. Another Capitol extra earned by her title. She wasn't even sure who did it. All she knew was that everything was always spick and span, shiny and... sterile whenever she arrived back. Even if she had only been out for the day. Part of her hated that, even her home wasn't really a home. It too had to always be picture perfect. But she shoved those feelings back down. For now anyway, soon she would have her release.

As she walked through the apartment screens automatically sprang to life and began singing and screaming at her, all about what she longed to escape; The Hunger Games. This most recent of the ongoing Games had only just begun really but Effie just wanted it to end. But it would never end for her. Her entire year was spent at the events and functions following the current Games or remembering and celebrating them or creating excitement for the next. And on and on for eternity. She had enjoyed them when she was younger but not not any more. 'Maybe they'll go early this year. Would make it easier on us all.' She thought as she manually turned off each screen in turn on her way to the bathroom. Trying to turn off and block out the annual celebration of horror which seemed to be getting harder and harder. 'Yes. Better for everyone if they go in the opening minutes at the Cornucopia . Better for them; no freezing, or starving, or fear... well less fear. Better for me; I might get a few days to myself whilst everyone watches the rest. Better for Haymitch.'

She paused in her internal monologue. Haymitch felt as bad as her but didn't bother to hide it. She envied his honesty as she could see the pain behind his actions, his drinking, and his eyes. All that pain staring out from his soul, which she recognised. Could relate to. But he couldn't see that in her. Too much Capitol fluff getting in the way. And she acted like it didn't effect her. Very well it seemed as Haymitch never saw the matching pain staring out from her eyes. Never saw the longing for sharing. Sharing this pain, these experiences and... 'Shut up!Stop it!' She screamed silently to herself. 'All he will ever see is the stupid Capitol whore that you are! So stop thinking like that. Stop thinking of him. Just shut up, shut up, shut up!' She banged her fists against her temples until she suddenly regained control, steadily lowered her fists to her sides and quickly looked around her. Just to be sure. That paranoia was built in deep.

She reached the last screen which had begun blaring. Before she could turn it off she caught sight of herself and Haymitch with the newest tributes. The channel was obviously doing a recap of the lead up, before the real action began. Caesar Flickerman was saying something about what the tributes were doing but Effie didn't pay him any attention. All she could focus on was her and Haymitch in the background. 'Why did I have to be reminded of that?' She physically crumpled, cringing at the memory. Haymitch had pointed out a stain on the sleeve of the jacket she was wearing.

"Surprised you haven't sorted that out Sweetheart, what with all the cameras around."

She remembered he had sneered at her. And instead of doing anything that could have improved his opinion of her, Effie re-watched herself hurridly take her jacket off. She also saw, once again, the look of disdain he had shot her. A look which she had been replaying over and over in her head. She had shown him how much she cared about the Capitol image once again, and she could see that he hated her for it. She angrily punched the off button on the screen. 'Why did they have to show that?' She thought and her eyes pricked with tears. 'No one else will have noticed.' She comforted herself before realising that this just showed, once again, that she cared about appearances. 'Haymitch is right to hate me. I hate me.'

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and hated what she saw. She couldn't see herself. Not her true self. She didn't even know what that would look like. All she could ever really see was the Capitol Effie. All wigs, and powder, and gloss, and polish. Nothing which was real, nothing that was truly her.

She began the laborious process of removing all the Capitol extras. Starting from the top and working her way down. The same process she had used basically every day of her life. All the time staring relentlessly back at the stranger facing her in the mirror. She took the pins which held her large, curly, lilac wig in place one by one some she had pushed in so deep that they had cut through her scalp once again. Effie didn't flinch, just rinsed the bloodied ones under the tap before carefully placing them with the others in an ornate enamel box on the dresser surrounding the sink. Before too long the wig was lose and her natural hair found freedom hanging at her shoulders. She noticed with an audible sigh that her roots were growing in and she would have to book an appointment with her stylist. 'Great.' She huffed to herself. She really wasn't in the mood for talking the Capitol talk yet again. But it would have to be done. The mousey brown roots were an indicator of the natural Effie. 'And no one needs to see_ that_.' She thought to herself , remembering her mothers words from when she was a child. She tried to think back to a time when she hadn't been poked, prodded, and highlighted into perfection, and found the memory missing.

This was her her life, had always been her life, and always would be, no matter how much she fantasised about escaping to a district. She allowed her thoughts to travel, to begin imagining that life, maybe even with Haymitch there. But she snapped herself back to reality. 'Don't be so ridiculous.' She admonished the girl in the mirror. The one with the hopes, and dreams, and mousey brown roots. She refocused on her hair; 'Yes that will have to be sorted whether I like it or not.' She thought to herself running her fingers through the unnaturally blonde waves. She siged and lamented. 'Even my natural hair can't be natural. This hair which will never be seen by anyone but me has to be kept Capitol, at least to some degree.' She shot another urgent look about her. She was having a lot of dangerous thoughts tonight, more than usual, and this was playing on her paranoia.

Now that her hair was loose she could start work on her face. She soaked a muslim cloth in strong, pink cleanser and started to reveal more of herself, layer by layer. Soon left on the clothes was her Capitol mask. The lilac eyebrows drawn on to match her wig. The glittery eye-shadow and heavy eye-liner. The lilac lipstick and shimmery gloss. The pink rouge from her cheeks and layers and layers of thickly applied Cover-all, foundation, and white powder. All of that to cover a pale face with light pink flush across the cheeks. A smattering of light freckles and naturally large and defined eyes. The permanent eyelash extensions wouldn't be removed, obviously, but the more exaggerated set, with diamonds and lilac flowers on the ends were pulled away. Effie winced as the glue struggled to yield to her pulling, but she got them off eventually, with a little help from her industrial cleanser.

Next was her Capitol suit of armour. The lilac shimmering dress was removed and Effie carefully placed it in the hamper to be taken and cleaned, along with the matching jacket and tights. She paused as she held the garment, feeling the light silky material between her fingers. Stopping to think, unlike so many others. 'Where has this come from, how was it made? How much suffering was created from making this just for me to appear presentable to all the others?' She knew it was naive, that she couldn't truly imagine a district life, but she so craved to escape all this Capitol foolery. She even envied the kids who arrived to her every year. Plucked from their homes to their inevitable deaths by her fair hand. At least they had the spirit to fight for their lives. If put in their position would she do the same? They had something to live for, what did she have? All this fakeness and yet another stranger staring back at her from the mirror. Sure this one had been stripped of make-up but it was just as unfamiliar, just as much of a stranger. She was upset now. Tears threatening to overflow from her eyes. She yanked at the strings on her corset until she was finally free, threw that and her underwear into the hamper and jumped into the shower. After pressing the appropriate buttons scalding hot water rained over her, burning her skin. At last the tears she had been holding on to all day were also granted freedom. They burnt tracks down her face as the water burnt over the rest of her body.

As she regained her composure she could focus on washing off the Cover-all which had not only been applied to her face but all over her body. Just in case. In case of what she didn't know. But that was what her mother had always said. Every inch of her body was covered all day, not a trace of her visible. It was a deeply inbedded thought process, everything had to be covered . She carefully controlled what everyone could see of her. This had resulted in no one seeing her. She looked down at her body under the shower, preparing to leave the one place she felt safe enough to cry. The water around her feet, swirling waiting to disappear down the drain was clouded with all the Cover-all and her skin was back to normal. Slightly peachy and with imperfections which were considered flaws.

She looked at her arms, which was where most of the Cover-all had to be applied, and traced the silvery pattern left by the slits she had made to her skin. A massive collection of straight lines which she had carefully added to herself since she was a teenager in complete secrecy. The older ones had faded naturally but the newest she had the aid of Capitol concoctions which turned the cuts to scars even before they stopped bleeding. She stepped out of the shower onto an impressively thick bath mat and wrapped an equally luxurious towel around herself. Placing her hand on the box her hair was perfectly dry in seconds. 'Now to pay attention to those toes.' She thought to herself. She could feel her mood lifting now she was getting closer to the only thing which made her feel real. She took the tube of medicine from the bathroom cabinet and squeezed a slick of shiny gel onto her fingers. Applying it carefully to the burst blisters and flesh which had been rubbed raw, the gel immediately started healing. She applied a little extra so there would be no scars on her feet and placed the tube on the dresser, not bothering to replace the cap. This was a well rehearsed process. Furtively she took a small silver tin out from the cabinet and from this she removed a small blade.

She added to the pattern of pain she was painting onto her body. At last she could breathe. At last the pain subsided. She only watched the blood prick for a few seconds before adding the gel and putting everything away very quickly. You never knew who might be watching.

The mirror had fogged up during her shower so Effie took a small towel and wiped it down. She stared at the stranger in the mirror who was slightly smiling. She wasn't yet feeling guilty about her vice, that would come, but for the time being there was some happiness inside her. She sighed. 'Nearly done.' she comforted herself and started applying the comparatively small amount of make-up required for sleeping in. 'Just in case.' Effie reminisced.

She slid under the covers of her large bed. The mattress seemed to swallow her, the pillows so large they could suffocate her, the blanket, heavy, pinning her skin down. She was drowning in luxury. She tried to sleep but, as every night, she was finding it difficult. Her mind was racing. The Games, the tributes, Haymitch, what she had just done. It wasn't a problem, she had it under control, she could stop any time she wanted. Her hand crept protectively over her arm. 'Still, I'm glad I'm the only one who knows.' She thought to herself, shuddering at the idea that anyone else could find out. Her mind flitted back to Haymitch. He wore his vices on the outside. She couldn't decide whether it was just foolish or selfish... or brave. She began to wish that she had stayed in the tower so she could have listened for his drunken stumblings, known he was there. The thoughts of him continued to dance through her mind. He relaxed her and slowly she fell to sleep thinking of him. Like every morning she said she wouldn't and every night she did.


	2. Chapter 2 - Haymitch Abernathy

Haymitch Abernathy

Haymitch Abernathy audibly groaned as his body forced his mind into consciousness. The fog of the alcohol induced coma was striving to stick to his eyelids and this was only accentuated when Haymitch tried to open them. Despite having only opened them a slit, he immediately regretted this decision as the sunlight coming through the window seemed to have been granted direct access to his brain.

'Aaaarlgh.' A gutteral growl escaped his lips but he forced himself to a sitting position. His legs hung off the edge of the bed and his feet shifted empty bottles, plates, and various rubbish to make contact with the floor. At last he was grounded, he had made contact with the day and it was yet to be seen if this was a good thing. Haymitch knew what would make everything better and he reached for the half empty bottle on the night stand, his hand managing to knock several empties over whilst on its single minded mission. As he took a swig straight from the bottle he grimaced as the alcohol hit his throat, but it began to help immediately.

A dull realisation began to creep through his brain. He realised there was definitely something he was forgetting. Who cares? Nothing in his life mattered anyway so whatever it was he was sure it didn't matter. Besides he would remember eventually. He finally was able to open his eyes fully and could survey his surroundings. Every morning was a surprise for Haymitch and today was no exception. What he'd thought was his bed was the couch, what he'd thought was the night stand was a pile of books and newspapers. 'Hmmm didn't make it to bed again.' Neither amazement or disappointment registered at this realisation. It was just one of those things.

He heaved his body up and began the trek to his bathroom. The floor directly surrounding the couch was heavily cluttered and his feet had to shuffle their way through. Nothing and nowhere was ever cleaned. Eventually the floor cleared though and his bare feet made contact with only carpet as he walked. Until, however, he trod on the remains of a broken bottle, or glass, or something. 'Shiiiiiit!' He shouted and hobbled to the stairs. A trial of blood now followed him, haunting every step.

Collapsing onto one of the steps he forced his eyes to focus on the underside of his left foot. He could see the shard of glass sticking out and gritted his teeth as he slid it out. 'Got ya!' He shouted triumphantly and then, just to punish it, he threw the shard as far as he could. It hit a wall and shattered into many more shards that would now lay in wait for him. 'Sort that out later,' Haymitch half-heartedly promised himself, having the vague recollection of having said the same thing about the glass which had most recently pierced his skin. He pushed up his sleeve to reveal a bandage wrapped around his arm and unravelled it. The cut on his arm looked healed enough so now the bandage could be wrapped around his foot. The cut on his arm was from his own knife, the offending arm having startled him out of sleep and Haymitch, thinking it was another tribute in his arena had lashed out quite effectively. His Games had ended long ago but they were still leaving scars. He hopped up the stairs and hobbled to the bathroom. The newest injury would be attributed to the Games. It only happened because he drank, and he only drank because of the Games. The inescapable force which ruled over his life.

His nose noticed before his eyes the puddle of vomit settled on the carpet, desperately close to the bathroom. 'Later.' He mumbled, adding to the eternally growing, never acted upon, list of chores. Housework had never been his fortes. And what was the point in starting now? At least this filth was his, there was something reassuring about living amongst his own chaos. Nothing like the cold, empty atmosphere he was subjected to annually in all the Capitol controlled areas. So like those Capitol people to be so anal about everything. He couldn't imagine what Effie would think if she saw how he lived. Haymitch laughed to himself as he imagined Effie's pursed lips and scowl whenever he made even a little mess. A little lightness had entered him thinking of her, but he soon saw to that. 'She wouldn't stand it for a second. She couldn't survive without her Capitol perfection. She wouldn't want to. Why am I thinking about her anyway!?' He was damn sure she wasn't thinking of him, but here he was thinking of her again. Pointless.

He turned on the cold tap and splashed the water onto his face. He looked up into the mirror, water dripping onto his neck and chest, his shirt gaping open so water trickling down his body and catching in his chest hair. The mirror was shattered, some incident an unknown amount of time ago. Haymitch mistily remembered throwing a bottle at it. The result of this was that as he looked at his reflection it was splintered, many parts of his face thrown off at odd angles. He couldn't recognise his face but the mirror did provide an accurate reflection of his life. Shattered and fragmented. Too much for a District Twelve girl, if he ever chose to let one in, to take. Let alone a girl like Effie. He stared into his own eyes, the only reminder of who he once was; that cocky teenager who had no idea what was to come. Had no idea what the Capitol would do to him, destroying his life until there was nothing left. He couldn't even end it all, he had thought about it. Hell, he was thinking about it now, staring into those same tortured eyes. But he couldn't, that would show that they had won, and he would never give them the satisfaction. Also he felt he had a responsibility to all future tributes. Without him, there would be no one there for them. He knew that feeling.

And he did try with the tributes. Before the impossibility of it all over whelmed him and he just had to shut it all out, not get attached. He couldn't have any more faces to remember, no more ghosts visiting him in the night. Anyway he did try, last year the tributes had seemed quite promising, had a bit of fight in them. They were slaughtered in the opening minutes at the Cornucopia. Effie had seemed almost relieved he remembered bitterly. 'Probably had more time to go to parties. She didn't even bother staying at the Training Centre again. Couldn't wait to get away.' It was in these moments that Haymitch remembered Effie's true character, just a Capitol girl with her Capitol Games, not seeing the tributes as the children they were, to her they were just pieces in the Games. Why couldn't he keep hold of the truth all the time. When she visited his thoughts, his dreams, she was different; still his funny little Effie with her ridiculous airs and graces, but kind with compassion and understanding. 'Ulgh, she's not mine. She's the Capitol's.' He bitterly reminded himself. Why couldn't these thoughts just leave him alone. Instead they intruded his every waking moment.

For whatever reason he could never write her off. He even tried with her, tried being kind. But she never saw his intentions, just looked down on him as District scum. He still looked forward to seeing her though, and sickeningly this meant that he looked forward to the annual Games.

Haymitch remembered what he had realised he was forgetting earlier, just seconds before the banging at his door began. The Games. The sound travelled from his door directly to his brain where it proceeded to shake him relentlessly. The hammering was continuous, not responding to Haymitch's shouts as he stumbled down the stairs.

"I'm coming! I'm fucking coming!"

He shouted to what he knew was peacekeepers on the other side of the door.

"What!?"

He shouted straight into their faces as he wrenched open the door. Immediately he had to grip his hand over his eyes as the sun made another assault, he hadn't realised how dingy it was inside the house until presented with the alternative. He noticed the two peacekeepers exchange a look. These weren't regular faces, people he could sometimes see in the Hob, these were some of the extra peacekeepers bought in for The Reaping. So he was right, it was time for it all to begin again.

"Well?!"

He sneered into their faces. The first peacekeeper spoke;

"Mr Abernathy, you are required at The Reaping."

He considered this silently, grabbing a bottle from the table by the door. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and spat it onto the floor, taking a swig he felt the familiar burn in his throat.

"Mr Abernathy?.."

The peacekeeper interrupted his thoughts. 'Why had she sent them? Normally she called before the Reaping to remind me. Clearly couldn't face me even before we stepped on the train this year.' He thought to himself, slightly wounded by Effie's snub. He took another swig.

"Mr Abernathy."

Haymitch noticed a slightly frantic tone creeping into the peacekeeper's voice.

"Jesus! All right, I'll be there ok?!"

With this he went to shut the door in their faces. 'Bloody Effie' he thought to himself, 'she knows how much I hat peacekeepers.' Probably did this just to annoy him. The peacekeeper's hand prevented him from shutting the door.

"No sir, now. The ceremony has started."

"But Effie..."

Haymitch managed to get out from his muddled brain which was now in free fall. 'Why didn't Effie call me?' He silently questioned.

"Miss Trinket said she tried to call you several times but couldn't get through to you."

'Aaaah, that's what that noise was.'

He thought to himself, annoyed at his predicament but slightly pleased that Effie hadn't forgotten about him. But for the immediate problem there seemed to be no solution; better go then. He went to leave his house and join the peacekeepers when he saw them exchange another look.

"What?"

He growled at them.

"We probably have time for you to get some shoes on sir."

Haymitch swore he saw a smirk on his face. 'Peacekeepers.' He thought, 'what do they know about anything? Just pawns to the Capitol. Judging me...' It was a variation on many internal rants he had. Luckily he normally kicked his shoes off as soon as he crossed the threshold so he didn't have too long to continue his grumblings before he was ready to be whisked away by them.

The distance between the Victors Village and the Justice Building was relatively short and the peacekeeper who was driving seemed to have been threatened with death if they didn't arrive in time. This was the only explanation Haymitch could attribute to the speed at which they were travelling. Due to their imminent arrival he was trying to finish the bottle he had grabbed for the drive, and due to their speed he was having to down it.

They pulled up at the Justice Building and he was grabbed out of the vehicle, causing him to drop his bottle.

"Hey, watch it"

He growled at the various white uniforms now coercing him to where he needed to be. The nerves began to hit him now. He hated being on that stage in front of that audience. Not the District people of course, but the idea of all those Capitol eyes on him, judging him and District Twelve from so far away. It reminded him of his Games.

He was pushed out on stage and stumbled, due to the push, not because of the drink, of course. He was going to shout something behind him but then he saw her. Effie Trinket. Wearing one of those ridiculous outfits on her curvy frame, a look of annoyance on that cute little face. God how he wished he could get his hands on her, take all those stupid clothes off and... 'Uh oh, not that stage.' He thought to himself, referring to his drunkenness. He had been angry and now seemed to be a bad combination of horny and impulsive. Excellent for a public gathering. Before he knew it he was grabbing her for a hug. He flustered her, he swore he saw her blush. And could that have been a smile before re-assuming her pout of annoyance at him? He was so focussed on the effect he had on her he missed the reaping of the first name, but his attention is drawn by the commotion in the crowd.

There is a volunteer. This has never happened. Had it? His brain was getting foggy, it was getting hard to think. Then he saw the girl, he recognised her, and the younger one being pulled off her. The volunteer tribute he knew from the Hob, and other one was her sister. He knew them, well had seen and heard of them. 'This girl is strong', he could feel it. Also he had always assumed she was involved in some sort of illegal activity, it was the Hob after all. He watched her mount the stage as Effie prattled on, God she couldn't not be Capitol for even a moment.

And then there was nothing. Silence so thick he could taste it. The girl, the girl who seems so strong, he sees her weaken. 'She's going to break.' Haymitch thought, formulating his plan as he moves, both tasks being made very difficult by the physical weight of his head, which seemed to be increasing. He gets to her in time and throws an arm around her, twisting her so she is facing the back of the stage. Giving her the time she needs to recover. Anger rises up in him, against the Capitol, against the Games, against everything. He shouts at the camera and lunges for them. All of them, all those Capitol fools who think this is all just a game, entertainment.

But then its gone, the stage is gone and he has plunged to the ground. He is vaguely aware of some laughing and then he sees her. Effie leaning over and looking at him, checking on him. He sees concern on her face, but he is just seeing what he wants to see. 'Why would she ever care about me? She is more concerned about chipping her nail polish than she ever would be about me.' Still, nice to see her before he let go of consciousness. Normally seeing her before he slept meant he would have a more pleasant type of dream. He chuckled to himself as she faded out of focus and his dreams of her began to take form once again.


	3. Chapter 3 - Two People

Two People

Effie Trinket gave up on finding sleep. She had been slipping in and out for hours and to be honest her dreams were worse than reality anyway. She couldn't quench the idea that maybe they had a chance, a real chance of... of winning. That's what she supposed she was hoping for. But then she would still lose one of them. What world was she living in where she was relying on a hope that only one of her children would die. Not to mention all the other tributes from the other districts. They would have to die too. She tried to imagine how she would feel if they really were her children, that she hadn't just borrowed them for the worst part of their young lives. If she had raised them and loved them for years, just to have them snatched away. Despite being Capitol, and so at no risk of this fate, this was the reason why Effie had no desire to marry and have children. She found her job hard enough as it is. It was her fate to have a painfully short amount of time with children who could never love her. She was the Grim Reaper to them.

Besides with whom would she have this imaginary family? One of the Capitol men, who were as prim and perfect as she pretended to be? Someone who could never except who she was under the Capitol shine? Someone who would end up surgically altered and would expect the same from her? She would never be able to drop her mask. And maybe she wasn't being fair, there were bound to be other Capitol people who thought like her. People who found everything so, so, horrific. But these thoughts were so dangerous how would they ever find each other?

'Besides... I know who I want.' She sighed to herself. She had forgotten until two days ago the special kind of hell it was to be near to him. Once again she was reminded almost constantly how awful she was to him. Once again she was constantly assulted by his pain, wanting so badly to help it end, but knowing she never could. That she just made it worse for him. Once again she was faced with the reality that, despite her dreams whilst they were apart, they would never be together. It made everything that much harder to bare. Haymitch was becoming everything to her whilst she remained nothing to him.

She silently cried into her pillow.

Haymitch Abernathy finally allowed himself a drink. He had promised the kids he would cut down and he was trying. Plus Effie knew about his pledge. It shouldn't matter that Effie knew but it did. He could still remember her face when he fell during the reaping just a few days ago. He wanted to show that he could be a better man. Not for her, obviously, just for himself, for his own pride. Ha! It had been a long time since he'd had that. Somehow his sense of self seemed to be intertwined with how she thought about him.

He took a gulp of his drink and relief flooded his body, he hadn't realised quite how tense he had been waiting for it. 'I've got to get my head off her.' He sighed to himself. 'Why do I even care what she thinks?' The realisation of why began creeping through him but he squashed it back down. It was bad enough that he thought she was hot, damn she might even be beautiful without that crap on her face, he didn't need to start thinking about _feelings_. 'Ulgh.' He was being so stupid. 'She clearly hates me anyway.' He thought to himself, remembering what had happened on the train. He had only been trying to help, trying to show an interest. Serves him right for pretending she could be different, that they could be friends. She had flipped out when he had just touched one of her stupid little boxes. 'Couldn't stand my District Twelve hands on her Capitol finery.' He growled, giving up on drinking out of a glass and swigging straight from the bottle.

He paced up and down his room getting angrier and angrier. 'I should be focussed on the Games. On the kids. That's what I should be thinking about!' Christ! He just couldn't get his head straight. That was nothing new, the Games had always messed him up, and they always would. But these kids. He had let them in. he shouldn't have, that was his whole thing; don't let anyone in. it only gave the Capitol ammunition. So that was his plan; stay aloof. 'You are all the company I need.' He said to the bottle of spirit in his hand. The promise to reduce his intake completely forgotten now. 'Still, it would be nice to have some female company once in a while.' But he could never risk it developing into anything more. He never would. The only woman he had even thought about for years was Effie, as much as it pained him to admit it. But the good thing about it was he would never have feelings for her. He never would.

They sat alone in the Training Centre tower. The living room of the District Twelve penthouse seemed dead and empty now everybody else had gone. Effie noticed Haymitch was drinking and she couldn't blame him. She silently wondered how he stayed here like this year after year.

Haymitch was uncomfortable with Effie's presence. She normally would have left by now. She had done every other year. But she was still there.

Effie snuck a glance at him and he was glued to the TV screen.

Tense and ready to leave if anything happened. But for now all he could do was watch. And wait. Watching and waiting; he really felt powerless. What was worse was that he could feel Effie's eyes on him. The impulse to look back was too strong to resist.

She noticed his eyes turn towards hers moments too late and her gaze met his grey, bloodshot eyes. She had been caught watching him and her only response was to drop her eyes. Suddenly fascinated by her hands in her lap. She felt colour rising to her cheeks and pleaded with her body to stop, but this just made it worse. She shouldn't have come back here. She should have stayed at the party schmoozing people, making sure District Twelve never left their heads. Or gone home. Just the thought of it made anxiety flutter from her stomach to her chest. She couldn't bare the thought of being alone once again. Even if it meant sitting here embarrassed.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. She was obviously embarrassed from being caught looking at him. What could that mean? Surely the only reason to act that way would be ig she liked him too. But that was ridiculous. He had been shocked when she returned from the party with him, even more so when she hadn't disappeared straight into her room. So now here they were watching TV in silence, redness creeping across her chest ans face. 'Surprised it shows through all that gunk she puts on.' He thought. He wanted to reach out and touch her, feel the warmth flushing her skin. His hand even moved, seemingly of its own accord, but he caught it and redirected it to his drink.

Now it was her turn to feel eyes burning into her skin. The best response was clearly to stay as still as possible and try to stop blushing. Why was it that she couldn't control herself when it came to that man? For a moment she thought he was going to touch her. She was trying to decide whether to act appalled or just give in straight away when he had picked up his drink. 'Of course. His one true love.' She was acting ridiculously. She should go to bed, there was no point sitting here, wearing herself out when there would be work to do tomorrow. She would have to line up the sponsors, as there was no way she could trust Haymitch to do that, and also...

"You ok Sweetheart?"

Haymitch had broken her internal monologue and she was forced to look at him to reply, manners after all. His face looked puzzled like she was a creature in the zoo he had never seen before.

"I'm fine." She clipped back. "I think I better go to bed."

She couldn't help it, her eyes flicked back down to her hands at the mention of bed. Blush once again made an attack on her face. 'Oh my goodness, this is ridiculous.' She thought. She was acting like a child. The mere mention of her bed around him sent her mind to places it didn't belong.

He saw her stand to leave but he couldn't just let her go, not after what he had just seen. And sure he could be wrong, just seeing what he wanted to see, but he swore he had seen desire in her eyes. And that would go a long way to explaining her behaviour tonight. He had caught her looking at him all night. Not just as they settled down for the evening alone, but all day at the Games Centre, and then at the stupid Capitol party. Which she had wanted to leave with him. Pieces were starting to fall into place for him, but it was confusing, and socking, and he could turn out to be completely wrong. But what if he wasn't? He couldn't let the opportunity pass. He grabbed her wrist.

She felt herself be pulled back. She had been leaving so she didn't reveal herself and now she could feel that tell tale blush flooding her face. She couldn't move, she couldn't look at him. Her nerves were shooting throughout her body, connecting the pressure she felt on her wrist to the deepest part of her soul. Anxiety bubbled through her stomach and chest again and she felt like she had to control her breathing. All of this was making it impossible to think, to process what was happening. To question why he had stopped her.

What was he doing? He cursed himself. Impulsiveness was a dreadful flaw and he found it was worse after a few drinks. He'd had a few more than a few and here he was practically holding her hand. The impulse had passed and he had no idea what to do next. He looked up from their connection at his hand to her face. He saw the redness shining from under all that make-up, and then her eyes. She was looking him in the eye for what felt like the first time ever. He could tell she was seeing the real him and he saw himself reflected in her eyes. There was his fear, there was his regret, there were the matching years of longing, and there was his desire. It was true, she wanted him too, he could see it. He couldn't help the smile spread to his face, the dream was going to become reality. Or maybe not. Suddenly she had jerked her arm away and snipped "Goodnight" and stormed away.

Effie stared herself down in the mirror. Gripping the edges of the sink and willing herself to stop crying. It had been ridiculous for her to ever expect anything from that man. She had stupidly allowed her feelings to show. Why couldn't she just control herself? 'He just laughed at me.' She thought once again, causing another wave of tears crash onto her cheeks. She had got about half way through her evening routine but hadn't been able to leave her tears in the shower like normal. So here she was; completely void of any make-up, plain white cotton nightdress, tears running down her face, and blood running down her arm. She was a mess and it was taking her some time to recover herself.

She gave the girl in the mirror another hard stare. She had to get on. She was being ridiculous. She had always known she was being a fool for thinking of him. It had just taken him to prove it. 'What a fool I am.' She sighed and got control of herself. She was still crying, but not sobbing, and that was an improvement. She reached for her tube of healing gel and then she heard it. The door to her bedroom flung open with a crash.

Haymitch stood in the result of his latest impulsive decision. He had drank in the time since Effie had left. A lot. He had been right all along, she was disgusted by him. 'How dare she think she's sooo much better than me?!' He had thought getting angrier and angrier until he finally decided to give her a piece of his mind. 'What gives her the right to judge me? Just because she thinks the Capitol is so much better!' He stormed to her door, tracing her steps from earlier.

The impulsivity, the drink, and his passion for the woman on the other side meant that he didn't even take a second to consider his actions. He slammed his palms against the heavy wood, flinging it open. Her room was identical to his except decorated for a female occupant; florals and pinks. It practically burnt his eyes. Then he saw her, standing directly opposite him in the bathroom.

He could barely recognise her and the words he was going to shout at her dissolved in his mouth. Confusion swept over him as he tried to process what was happening, what he was seeing. She was what he had imagined; small when not in those ridiculous shoes, blonde hair laying perfectly around her shoulders when not hidden under a stupid wig, and her face so beautiful, and innocent, and pure without all that crap plastered on it.

He could only feel compassion for the girl who was standing there. She was everything he had dreamed, everything he had known was true deep down inside him. She wasn't just a Capitol girl, she was his little Effie. And she was crying and hurt. He didn't know how or why, and he didn't take the time to question the tears coming from her startled eyes or the blood streaming down her arm.

"Sweetheart..."

He practically whispered, his eyes flicking all over her, beginning to prick with tears at seeing her pain. She seemed to be frozen on the spot so he strode towards her, the heavy door swinging closed behind him.


End file.
